


Fashion Passion

by Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Fashion & Couture, Flirting, Gittarackur - Freeform, Hisoka has an egregious amount of bands, Hunter Exam (Hunter X Hunter), Illumi is done, M/M, Phantom Rouge, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Roasting, Teasing, but also charmed, but only really the outfit is reference, legs arms wrists neck you name it, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi/pseuds/Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi
Summary: Over the years, Hisoka and Illumi have affected each other’s fashion.In which Illumi changes his sense of style and Hisoka does things out of spite.
Relationships: Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 8
Kudos: 127





	Fashion Passion

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, I like all of Hisoka and Illumi’s outfits. Each one has something I really like. So any and all roasting I do is out of love.   
> And I actually find fashion really interesting. Color coordination with skin tone, the fit of certain articles with body types, how to emphasize certain characteristics with patterns or cuts. It’s all really neat.

* * *

Despite wanting to get this meeting over with as soon as possible, Illumi almost regretted Hisoka answering his door once he saw what the magician turned murderer had decided to clothe himself in. He spent the first handful of seconds contemplating whether to leave instead of exchanging the customary greetings. When he finally decided to go through with the conversation, Illumi opened his mouth but instead of saying hello what fell out was:

“What are you wearing?”

Despite his social faux pas, Hisoka only smiled and gestured for him to enter the apartment. “I distinctly recall you demanding that I cover myself up when you visited.”

Once in the living room, Hisoka shifted his stance and the curve of his hip jutted out as all his weight settled on his left leg. The index finger of his right hand settled on his lower lip, gently tugging to reveal soft pink flesh as he pouted.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were disgusted by my body.”

“I’m not disgusted by anything.” Illumi replied, and he truly wasn’t. Severed limbs, decomposing bodies, pools of organs and blood and excrement; all of those and more had been exposed to him since he was a child. Of course the sight of a penis wasn’t going to evoke any reaction.

Though Illumi took care in the pronunciation of his statement, lest Hisoka somehow take his inflection to mean he was allowed to go back to lounging around nude. Just because it didn’t disgust Illumi didn’t mean he wanted to experience it.

“I’m only requesting the bare minimum for decency.”

“Hm, I’m not sure I know the meaning of the word.” Hisoka smirked as he cast aside his embarrassed charade and flung himself across the sofa. He lied on the cushions, neck propped up by the armrest, and gestured for Illumi to take a seat anywhere in the living room.

The love seat was covered with what looked to be months of mail that he wouldn’t know where to relocate. He glanced at the floor, considering that, but realized he didn’t want to have to look up at Hisoka as they spoke. The coffee table would place him higher, but his mother taught him better than to sit on tables. So he sat on Hisoka’s legs.

Hisoka squawked indignantly at Illumi’s weight, but didn’t do anything to extract himself other than a cursory fidget that was too weak to be meaningful. While Hisoka wiggled underneath him, Illumi realized the material he was sitting on was lumpy and remembered the strange decorations Hisoka had been wearing around his calves.

“What are these things around your legs?” Illumi asked just as Hisoka was giving up on pretending to try and escape from underneath him.

“Hm, I don’t know what they’re called. Leg bands?”

“What is their purpose?”

“Fashion,” Hisoka replied with a sharp grin that only grew when Illumi pinched his thigh through his thin pants.

“That’s not possible. They’re hideous.”

“I beg to differ. I’ll have you know these leg bands are the culmination of fashion and function. Not only do they highlight the slender outline of my calves, but they provide protection for my weak ankles.”

Illumi had personally seen Hisoka leap from third story windows without any nen to cushion his fall, but he didn’t want to risk complimenting Hisoka’s physicality by pointing out such an inconsistency. Instead he settled back on his less than comfortable seat and, with a cross of his arms, began to discuss the details for the job he wanted Hisoka’s help in.

\---------------

“Hm, okay, I think you should just give up on pastels.”

“Pardon?”

“Pastels, Illumi. I mean this in the best way, because you are near and dear to my heart, but you look terrible in pastels.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Pastels. This.” Hisoka tugged on the bottom hem of his orange button-up.

“Oh, my mother got me this shirt. She said I’d been dressing so gloomy lately.” If he’d wanted Hisoka to say anything about this shirt –which he hadn’t, he had no use for Hisoka’s commentary— he would have guessed it would be a positive remark about the new color palette. He had expected nothing else from the man who wore light fabrics and painted bright colors on his cheeks and lips.

“I thought you came from an assassin family.” Hisoka finally released the shirt, and Illumi ran his fingers across the fabric to make sure it hadn’t stretched from the pull. “Surely they’d want you to dress gloomy? To blend in?”

Illumi brought his gaze up only to find Hisoka still staring down at his shirt with an amused smirk.

“Have you not seen my mother?”

“Hm, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. You have a tendency to keep me away from your family.”

“For good reason,” Illumi replied without much thought as he pulled out his phone. He scrolled through the photos, made easy for the sheer lack of them, and found the image he’d cropped for his mother’s contact information.

He turned the screen to show Hisoka and waited for him to react. After the surprising reaction to his new shirt, Illumi wasn’t sure what to expect from the other, but he readied a needle in case Hisoka made any remotely untoward comments about the Zoldyck matriarch. Thankfully, for Hisoka that is, he only smiled at the photo. A small grin that was a far cry from his usual lecherous smirk or condescending sneer. Illumi surreptitiously tucked his needle away.

“See, she’s wearing jewel tones. She understands.”

Illumi didn’t know what a jewel tone was, but he nodded as if he did.

“She has changed to purple recently. She used to wear yellow.” He offered.

Hisoka finally frowned, strikingly similar to when he’d first seen Illumi’s shirt. “I stand corrected. No one in your family but your dear Killua seems to respect fashion.”

“That’s because we have better things to worry about.”

Illumi was busy putting away his phone, so he was unable to dodge Hisoka as he grabbed a handful of Illumi’s shirt and began to tug –this time upwards.

“Hisoka, if you don’t stop I’m-”

His threat to impale was ruined when the shirt was yanked up and his arms rendered inert. Illumi capitulated to the rough handling until the shirt was off and on the floor.

“Come with me~” Hisoka crooned with a flick of his finger.

Not wanting to risk being dragged – by hand or Bungee Gum— Illumi followed Hisoka into his room. Thankfully Hisoka didn’t pause beside the bed, not even as a joke, and walked directly to his closet.

“Okay, listen, it’s simple. You have a cool undertone. That will work better with jewel tones because of the color saturation.”

He picked up a shirt and held it between Illumi and the mirror the create the appearance of it being worn. The shirt was a normal dress shirt –why Hisoka had it if he never wore it was not worthy of consideration— and felt soft against his bare chest. The fabric was a deep blue, close to a sapphire, that made his features different in ways Illumi didn’t have the words to describe. His eyes and hair were still dark. His skin was still pale. And yet…

“Don’t get upset,” Hisoka said, perhaps misunderstanding his long silence. “You can still wear light colors. Just be aware of the color saturation.” At this he replaced the blue shirt with a lavender undershirt, and then a grey sweatshirt with a vintage Bungee Gum ad on the front, then a white crop top with a dark blue club and spade on the front.

“You see?”

Illumi nodded. He did see. Whether he understood and could replicate it, was another question. One that Hisoka didn’t ask so Illumi didn’t answer.

\---------------

The next time he saw Hisoka, the atrocity had spread to his forearms.

"Why are you wearing arm bands?” Illumi asked.

“These are wrist bands, actually.” Hisoka corrected, just to be contrary. Though the pause and glance to his biceps made Illumi worry.

“Arm bands,” Hisoka muttered.

“Don’t you dare.” Illumi warned.

But when he saw Hisoka two weeks later, Illumi had the sudden urge to send his head through the wall. Illumi wasn’t particularly picky about whose head, but he had a slight preference towards making it Hisoka’s.

The arm bands were at least thinner than the ones around his wrists, which were in turn not as stacked at the ones on his legs.

“Are you quite done adding those to your repertoire?” Illumi asked.

He should have known better.

\---------------

“Quite a bold statement there, Illumi.”

Illumi cast a glance down at his clothing. A blue changpao with slits on either side to facilitate a full range of motion. The waist sash he hid his pins in was a pale cream and his tailored pants were light blue. Arm braces to protect his bare skin and a high collar to guard his neck. Illumi searched for anything odd or eye-catching, but found himself at a loss. Then again, that wasn’t a wholly unheard-of state of being when dealing with Hisoka.

He decided to move the conversation along and discard any pride in pretending like he understood. “What are you talking about?”

“Your tits are out.”

“I don’t have tits.” He didn’t need to look down. Of this, at least, he was certain.

“You sure, because-”

Illumi stabbed a needle into the hand that groped his left pec, but Hisoka didn’t flinch nor did he –to Illumi’s chagrin— move his hand away. Instead, his fingertips brushed across his nipple as he traced his way to Illumi’s lats.

“You’ve got a rather daring side boob as well. Most people say showing that off is trashy, but I’ve got to disagree.” As he ran the tip of his fingernail down his bare skin, Illumi stepped back.

“The boob window though, that is definitely trashy. Look at what a little deviant you’ve become~”

“It’s for air circulation.” Illumi said, quelling the irrational urge to cover his unclothed collar bones.

“Air circulation? In fabric that tight? You’d be lucky to fit your hopes and dreams in there, let alone anything of actual substance.” Hisoka leered. “Though that’s to say nothing of the fit of your pants.”

Illumi could feel his mouth pitch down and allowed the expression to remain. Hisoka clearly needed all the help he could get to understand how incorrect his opinions were.

“This poor fabric is so stretched I can see your religion.”

And despite Illumi’s consideration and efforts, Hisoka just kept being wrong.

“They are fitted so there wasn’t any loose fabric to snag.”

“Then what’s all this for?” While he was squatting low, Hisoka grabbed the bottom of his changpao. He tugged the fabric, pulling it tight across his groin. Illumi ignored how pleasant the friction felt and focused on sinking his next pin into Hisoka’s right eye. To his eternal frustration, Hisoka made the split-second dodge seem easy.

“Enough of this,” Illumi huffed. “I didn’t call you here to discuss my wardrobe.”

“Nope! That part just comes free of charge~” Hisoka sang, but took a few steps back out of politeness. In consideration of the peace offering, Illumi stepped to Hisoka’s side when showing him the map of the mansion grounds instead of just passing it to him across the space. Hisoka’s delighted little hum when their bare shoulders brushed echoed throughout Ilumi’s head for the entirety of the mission.

\---------------

When he saw Hisoka at the Hunter Exam a few months later, he very nearly broke character just so he could properly kill the man who _dared_ insult Illumi’s sense of dress when he was walking around with not only leg bands, not only wrist bands, not only arm bands, but with waist bands, AND neck bands on top of everything else.

At this point, the colorful make-up, puffy sleeves, and sash tied around his waist were the least eye-catching things about his ensemble, and that alone was a feat.

“Hello,” Hisoka greeted with a grin that was stretched too far to be just about seeing Illumi. Someone must have died, or at the very least been grievously injured. That previous agonized scream followed by a persistent, quiet whimpering must have been his doing then.

“Hello,” Illumi returned with a nod. His head rattled as he moved, and that lessened the grin on Hisoka’s face to make room for the amused glint in his eyes. More sincere, but no less unsettling.

“I must say Illumi. I’m flattered.”

“Excuse you?” Every word tore at his misshapen throat and made his new jaw ache, but Illumi couldn’t trust Hisoka to elaborate under his own volition.

“Your outfit. I’m flattered to be the subject of your mimicry.”

Illumi glanced down, the motion bringing a sharp pain to his neck, and took in the cropped green shirt with puffed sleeves. A heavy weight settled uncomfortably in his stomach when Illumi realized his cream undershirt even matched Hisoka’s ridiculous sash.

“Coincidence,” Illumi spat out the word, working against the vocal cords that scraped together with the ease of two stones.

“Hm, but you know I wear crop tops. Have been for years. And I showed you this new shirt last month. Though I suppose the sash is new enough to be _coincidenc_ e.” His smile became crooked, mockingly concessionary.

Illumi frowned, savoring the creak of muscles tearing apart to make the expression, and pointed down at Hisoka’s feet.

“Those shoes are stupid.”

Hisoka gasped and placed a manicured hand over his heart as he feigned insult. His blustering was ostentatious and his pitch impeccable, but the slight inward slump of his shoulders and the watery sheen to his eyes was enough. Illumi basked under Hisoka’s wounded pride until the warmth began to shrink, bit by bit, until the cavern was cold and the atmosphere heavy around them.

“I thought they would be more practical.” Hisoka finally said. “The last Hunter Exam had a lot of tests outside, so I thought flats might be better.”

"But you’ve never put functionally before fashion before.”

Hisoka scuffed his shoe against the ground, idly kicking a stray pebble. “I know but…I kinda liked these though. I thought the curved toe was cute.”

Illumi really didn’t like the weight rapidly settling in his stomach, nearly large enough now to spread into his chest. It pressed against his lungs, keeping him from taking full breaths and choking his throat. His head grew cloudy and messy, unable to string together the right thing to say next. Maybe it was lack of oxygen. Any longer and he might lose the ability to take a breath altogether.

"I just prefer your heels.” Illumi finally managed to say.

His chest ached from the effort to force the words out of his throat, and his jaw throbbed so badly his teeth throbbed, but Hisoka’s eyes perked up a bit. That was enough to distract Illumi and pull another statement from his protesting body.

“You look nicer with heels.”

The grin that settled across Hisoka’s face was smaller than usual, but Illumi preferred the gentle curve. It matched the slight dip of his head and the relaxed hood of his eyes.

“I’ll take your criticism into consideration.” Hisoka said, his words airy but sincere.

Illumi’s chest relaxed ever so slightly under the soft smile and gentle tone, but his heart thudded painfully against his ribs. The left corner of Hisoka’s mouth tilted up by a hair, and Illumi wondered if Hisoka had somehow heard the rushing pulse underneath his skin.

His breath was stolen again when Hisoka’s fingertips traced along his elongated jaw, the sharp edge of his nails prickling against skin he’d thought gone numb from the needles.

“And you look nicer with a bit of blush.” He whispered, the breath of his words caressing Illumi’s thin lips. “It does wonders for your complexion.”

A shout from the Hunter Exam proctor echoed throughout the cavern. Hisoka stepped back, his fingertips lingering on Illumi’s cheek before disappearing as the arm was drawn back to Hisoka’s side. He painted the picture of careless serenity, but Illumi could sense the avid hunger in his golden eyes.

Numerous times had Illumi wanted to rip off Hisoka’s ridiculous clothes. But now, perhaps for the first time, it was for a reason Hisoka would probably agree with.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Sober Me: “Hm, I’m not sure if I really like this transitionary sentence. Ah, this dialogue could really flow better if this is the tone I’m trying to accomplish. Is this really ready to be shared?"  
> Drunk Me: “Oh-ho-ho, this story is pretty much done right? Great! Post!”


End file.
